The Criminal Mastermind of Baker Street

By Rob Nunn

What if Sherlock Holmes had turned to crime instead of detection? THE CRIMINAL MASTERMIND OF BAKER STREET by Rob Nunn investigates this very concept. Holmes famously said that “when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst of all.” A sinister influence is at work in Victorian London with Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson running a hidden criminal empire. THE CRIMINAL MASTERMIND OF BAKER STREET explores all of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s original stories through the lens of Holmes as a criminal while adding many new exciting tales of Holmes’ daring to delight its readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MX Publishing
• Release date: Sep 19, 2017
• ISBN: 9781787051751

Book preview

Street.

Chapter 1: Begin at the Beginning

Dr. Watson, meet Mr. Sherlock Holmes, young Stamford said as he introduced the two strangers in the laboratory at St. Bart’s Hospital one January day in 1881.

The young man looked up from his chemical research and greeted them. How are you? Sherlock Holmes asked cordially, gripping Watson’s hand with strength that surprised the doctor. His sharp and piercing eyes took in the doctor at a glance. You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.

Suspicious, Watson asked the tall, gaunt man, How on earth did you know that?

A smile crossed Holmes’ thin, eager face. When I saw you, I thought ‘Here is a gentleman of a medical type, but with the air of a military man. Clearly an army doctor then. He has just come from the tropics, for his face is dark, and that is not the natural tint of his skin, for his wrists are fair. He has undergone hardship and sickness, as his haggard face says clearly. His left arm has been injured. He holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner. Where in the tropics could an English army doctor have much hardship and got his arm wounded? Clearly in Afghanistan.’

Interesting, Watson remarked.

Never mind. The whole train of thought did not occupy a second, remarked Sherlock Holmes, pricking a finger on one of his hands that were blotted with ink and stained with chemicals to draw a drop of blood and then placing a small piece of plaster over the prick. I have to be careful, he continued, noting Watson’s look, for I dabble with poisons a good deal.

We came here on business, said Stamford, sitting down on a three-legged stool. My friend here wants to take diggings and is looking for employment, but is slightly embittered at how the great cesspool of London is treating a wounded war veteran. I thought that I had better bring you together.

A veteran, Holmes mused. You are not of active duty.

No, Watson continued. I was an assistant surgeon for the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, but I was struck in the shoulder by a Jezail bullet. After regaining my strength at the base hospital, I suffered an attack of enteric fever, leaving me laid up until I was discharged and sent back to here to London where I have no kith or kin. I mentioned all this to Stamford over lunch and he said that you seem to know of most things in London and might be able to point me in the direction of employment and a place to call home.

Stamford was correct that Holmes knew of most things in London. Sherlock Holmes loved to lie in the very center of the five millions of people in London, with his filaments stretching out and running through the city, a city he considered his city. Holmes was attentive to every little rumor, suspicion or opportunity that came his way, and this strongly built doctor who had just been introduced to him presented a definite opportunity.

I might know something about employment in a few days, but as for lodgings, you may start and end here, Holmes stated. I have been looking for someone to go halves on a suite in Baker Street. You don’t mind strong tobacco, I hope?

Happily surprised at the possibility of finding decent lodgings, Watson answered, I always smoke ‘ships’ myself.

That’s good enough. I generally have chemicals about, and occasionally do experiments. Would that annoy you?

By no means.

Let me see - what are my other shortcomings. I get in the dumps at times, and don’t open my mouth for days on end. You must not think I am sulky when I do that. Just let me alone, and I’ll soon be right. What have you to confess now? It’s just as well for two fellows to know the worst of one another before they begin to live together.

Watson laughed at the cross-examination. I object to rows, because my nerves are shaken, and I get up at all sorts of ungodly hours, and I am extremely lazy. I have another set of vices when I’m well, but those are the principal ones at present.

Seeing beyond Watson’s initial assessment of himself, Holmes asked, Do you include violin playing in your category of rows?

It depends on the player. A well-played violin is a treat for the gods - a badly-played one...

Oh, that’s all right, Holmes laughed. I think we may consider the thing as settled - that is, if the rooms are agreeable to you. Call here at noon tomorrow, and we’ll go together and settle everything.

All right - noon exactly, said Watson, shaking Holmes’ hand.

Watson and Stamford left Sherlock Holmes working among his chemicals. Once out of the room, Watson turned to Stamford, Was he really able to deduce so quickly that I had come from Afghanistan? Did you tell him about me?

Stamford smiled. No, no. That’s just his little peculiarity. A good many people have wanted to know how he finds things out. You mustn’t blame me if you don’t get on with him.

Watson stopped and looked hard at his companion. It seems to me, Stamford, that you have some reason for washing your hands of the matter. What is it? Don’t be so mealy-mouthed about it.

Nothing so serious, Stamford replied. It is not easy to express the inexpressible. Holmes is a little too scientific for most people’s tastes - some would say that it approaches cold-bloodedness. He appears to have a passion for definite and exact knowledge.

Very right too.

Yes, but it may be pushed to excess. When it comes to beating the subjects in the dissecting rooms with a stick, it is certainly taking rather a bizarre shape.

Beating the subjects! Watson ejaculated.

Yes, to verify how far bruises may be produced after death. I saw him at it with my own eyes. But as far as I know, he is a decent fellow enough.

After my time in Afghanistan, I don’t find myself too picky of company. He is a medical student, I suppose? Watson asked.

No - I have no idea what is his actual employ. I believe he is well up in anatomy, and he is a first-class chemist; but, as far as I know, he has never taken any systematic medical classes. His studies are very desultory and eccentric, but he has amassed a lot of out-of-the-way knowledge which would astonish professors. At times, he seems to be a walking calendar of crime, always talking of police news of the past. He is not a man that is easy to draw out, though he can be communicative enough when the fancy seizes him.

Oh! A mystery is it? This is very piquant. I am much obliged to you for bringing us together. The proper study of mankind is man, you know.

You must study him, then, Stamford said, as he bade Watson goodbye. You’ll find him a knotty problem, though. I’ll wager he learns more about you than you about him.

Holmes and Watson met at noon the next day and inspected the rooms at 221B Baker Street. They consisted of a couple of comfortable bedrooms and a single large airy sitting-room, cheerfully furnished, and illuminated by two broad windows. The two men found the rooms and the rates so desirable that they closed the deal on the spot.

During their first few weeks together, Watson made good on his word to Stamford that he would make a study of Sherlock Holmes. Watson noted that Holmes would sometimes spend his days at the chemical laboratory, sometimes in the dissecting room, and occasionally in long walks, which appeared to take him to the lowest portions of the city. His zeal for certain studies was remarkable, and within eccentric limits, his knowledge was so extraordinarily ample and minute that his observations would astound Watson.

While Watson was making a study of Holmes, Holmes was of course studying Watson in turn. After their first week together, Holmes knew that Watson was a solid and reliable man and felt comfortable enough to receive callers in their new home. Watson found himself confused by Holmes’ many acquaintances from all different classes of society. One morning, a fashionably dressed young girl called and stayed for a half hour. Later that day, a gray-headed, seedy visitor came by. Other visitors included an old, white-haired gentleman, a slipshod elderly woman and a railway porter in his velveteen uniform. Anytime one of these visitors came by, Holmes would beg for use of the sitting-room. He would apologize to Watson for the inconvenience, telling him that he had to use that room as a place of business and those people were his clients. Watson simply took himself to another room and never seemed to be bothered by these clients, no matter their social class, which pleased Holmes and solidified his judgment of the doctor’s character.

Two months after they had moved into Baker Street, Watson rose early one morning and found Holmes already seated at the breakfast table, reading a French book on graphology. Watson picked up a magazine and his eyes fell upon an article titled The Book of Life. As he read the article, he became more and more astounded by the claims in it. The author of the article claimed that by a momentary expression, a twitch of a muscle or a glance of an eye, to fathom a man’s innermost thought. Deceit, according to him, was impossible in the case of one trained to observation and analysis. The article went on to proclaim that the practitioner of deduction could meet a fellow mortal, learn at a glance to distinguish the history of the man and the profession to which he belongs.

What ineffable twaddle! Watson cried, slapping the magazine down on the table. I’ve never read such rubbish in my life.

What is it? Sherlock Holmes asked innocently.

This article. I see that you have read it since you have marked it. I don’t deny that it is smartly written. It irritates me though. It is evidently the theory of some armchair lounger who evolves all these neat little paradoxes in the seclusion of his own study. It is not practical. I should like to see him clapped down in a third-class carriage on the Underground, and asked to give the trades of all his fellow-travelers. I would lay a thousand to one against him.

You would lose your money, Holmes remarked. As for the article, I wrote it myself.

You!

Yes; I have a turn both for observation and for deduction. The theories which I have expressed there, and which appear to you to be so chimerical, are really extremely practical - so practical that I depend upon them for my bread and cheese.

And how? Watson asked.

After a methodical study of John Watson, Holmes had decided that he was an intelligent, trustworthy and adventurous man whose time in Afghanistan and return to London had allowed his morals to be less rigid than many other Victorian gentlemen. Now that Holmes felt confident in his assessment of the former army doctor, he had had this article published to spark such a conversation, to make it seem as though Holmes’ line of work had come up in conversation organically.

Well, I have a trade of my own. Yes, it has been done before, but not to the level of which I aspire. To the average person, my persona is that of a gentleman with eccentric interests who then turns those studies into monographs and articles. I have published writings on subjects as far-ranging as differences in cigar ashes to the origin of tattoo marks. But in reality, my specialty is planning and executing crimes so perfect that they are untraceable. You might call me a consulting criminal.

Surprised, Watson sat back in his chair.

"Before you object, Doctor, my plans are, almost without exception, devoid of violence. What would be served by a circle of misery, violence and fear? Nothing. I take the view that a when a man embarks upon a crime, he is morally guilty of any other crime which may spring from it. You see, I strive to elevate criminal activity to a gentlemanly fashion. Society can never do away with crime completely, so why not civilize and organize the practice? My methods will greatly reduce dangerous criminals acting with malice towards their victims, for violence does recoil upon the violent. I also strive to eliminate poorly planned crimes resulting in harm coming to people when it can be avoided. You said that Stamford called me a walking calendar of crime, and he had no idea how close to the truth he really was. I have made a study of past crimes, and endeavored to learn from them. Take, for example, the Worthington bank robbery in 1875. The gang’s bumbling led to one murder and five prison terms. It was only luck that a guard was not present during the robbery, or surely more blood would have been shed. If I had a hand in the planning of that case, no one would have been harmed, hanged or even caught.

Look out the window to the fog that permeates London, Holmes continued. A thief or murderer could roam London on such a day as the tiger does the jungle, unseen until he pounces and then he is evident only to the victim. But if there is a great, controlling force that oversaw all crime in London, petty thugs would know not to accost citizens, and that working under my tutelage would benefit them more than acting on their own ideals. But I am also happy to consult on other’s plans for a fee and to help those in need. Those people you have seen in our rooms are my clients. They are mostly sent on by my private inquiry network of agents. They are all people who are in trouble about something, and want a little enlightening. I listen to their story, they listen to my comments, and then I pocket my fee.

Intrigued, Watson asked, Do you mean to say, that without leaving your room you can unravel some knot which other men can make nothing of, although they have seen every detail for themselves?

Quite so. I have a kind of intuition that way. Now and again, a case turns up which is a little more complex. Then I have to bustle about and see things with my own eyes. You see I have a lot of special knowledge which I apply to the problem, and which facilitates matters wonderfully. Those rules of deduction laid down in that article which aroused your scorn are invaluable to me in practical work. Observation with me is second nature, such as when I deduced that you had come from Afghanistan. This trait benefits my organization’s planning greatly.

Watson sat quietly, and Holmes poured him a cup of tea from his favorite plantation in India.

But how could you have created such a profession? And why has no one before you done so? Watson questioned, stunned but intrigued.

When I attended university, I realized how great my capabilities were. One afternoon, I was sharing my talent with my friend’s father, and he pointed me in my line of work. I had only thought of this as a hobby until that day.

And why did you never use your abilities to solve crimes instead of committing them?

"I had intended to do so in my own capacity, and even helped Scotland Yard solve the Tarleton murders in ‘78, but when another university acquaintance hired me to solve a mystery at his estate, my course changed that day. His butler had solved an old, peculiar family ceremony that led to the finding of the ancient crown of the kings of England. The butler’s intellect solved what had gone unnoticed for generations, but in the end, he was undone and ultimately died because of poor planning on his part. I was able to solve the same problem, but the treasure was turned over to the one who had hired me.

"Instead of solving other people’s puzzles for an affordable fee, why couldn’t I build my own puzzles that would benefit me while being unsolvable to others? Over time, my plans grew and allowed me to be the head of a well-hidden crime syndicate right here in London. Which brings me to you, my good doctor.

Before you and I met, I had been plying young Stamford for information on reliable men that he knew, and he eventually delivered you. My original interest was that of a discreet doctor, one that I could call on when one of my employees needed mending, and their injuries might arouse suspicion from a more traditional medical service. But after first meeting you, I saw a hint of your nature and wanted to give you further inspection. You immediately struck me as a man who was not happy with how the world had treated him and yearned for adventure. You, no doubt, have been studying me as well.

Watson chuckled, embarrassed to be found out.

Never mind our prying natures. Over the past few weeks, I have found you to be a most reliable and trustworthy companion. You have not been taken aback by some of my visitors and seem tolerant of my curious habits and hours. If you object to what I have to say, we may part on amicable terms, and no word of this need be spoken again. But if you are, as I suspect, a man of adventure, then I believe you will be interested in my proposal.

Watson sipped his tea and took a moment to respond. It is true that I have found London to be rather dull and unwelcome since my return. I wouldn’t object to hearing what you have to offer.

Holmes smiled with delight. Excellent! Your medical knowledge will, of course, be of use to my organization. But more importantly, I would like to offer you to be a colleague. I prefer to keep my hands clean of the actual business that brings in my earnings, but sitting and dispatching orders can become so tiresome when it is done alone. I would like you to be present and available while I am doing so. And while you may not see every nuance and detail of my plans, I feel that a man of your nature would be a welcome addition to my operation. A trusty comrade is always of use. Please take your time in considering this proposal, but I would be thrilled if you joined me.

Before Watson could reply, there came the pattering of many steps in the hall and on the stairs, accompanied by audible expressions of dismay from our landlady, Mrs. Hudson. The sitting room was soon overrun by half a dozen of the dirtiest and most ragged street Arabs that anyone had ever seen.

It’s the Baker Street division of my organization, said Holmes to Watson, and then turned to the young scoundrels. ’Tention!

The boys lined up like six disreputable statues.

In the future you shall send up Wiggins alone to report, and the rest of you must wait in the street. Wiggins, do you have my replies?

Yessir. Here you are, replied one of the youths.

Good, good. Holmes took the scraps of paper from the boy and took three others out of his blue dressing gown pocket. See that these are to be delivered immediately. The first is for the band of gypsies in Surrey. You will need to talk to our man about transportation. The second will go to Beddington, and the third is for Detective Gregson at the Yard. Now, off you go, and come back with replies once you have delivered your messages.

The boys scampered away downstairs and Holmes and Watson could hear their shrill voices the next moment on the street. Holmes turned back to Watson. I prefer to stay removed from most of my associates, so I employ the Baker Street Irregulars to deliver messages. Many of my employees would arise suspicion from the authorities if they were to be seen frequenting my door.

But you delivered a message to a detective at Scotland Yard, Watson observed.

Of course. As I said, my aim is to conduct crime in a professional and gentlemanly way. When dastardly instances such as yesterday’s murder in Lauriston Gardens happen, I want them stopped just as much as the force. London’s inhabitants should feel safe. And the safer they feel, the easier my plans become. I only help a few of the detectives, though. Most are not worthy of my time. Gregson is the smartest of the Scotland Yarders; he and Detective Lestrade are the pick of a bad lot. They are both quick and energetic, but conventional - shockingly so. They have their knives into one another, too. They are as jealous as a pair of professional beauties and are happy to use my suggestions to gain a step up on each other. I also find it useful to hear their thoughts as they track down criminals. Lestrade got himself into a fog recently over a forgery case, and hearing his methods helped me to know what steps the force would follow in my future plans. No, I don’t worry about the Scotland Yard detectives picking up my scent any time soon. I am well-hidden right in front of them.

Watson finished his tea, and cleared his throat. Your offer is quite an appealing one. It seems to me that you endeavor to bring crime to as near an exact science as it ever will be brought in this world. I would be happy to join you.

Holmes clapped Watson on the shoulder and welcomed him to the organization. Soon, their conversation drifted away from matters of work, and Holmes, in the best of spirits, prattled away about Cremonas and the difference between a Stradivarius and an Amati. Watson listened attentively, expecting to learn much from his new employer, and Holmes was happy to talk with the man that would quickly become his most trusted friend and associate.

Chapter 2: Everything In Due Order

With Watson by his side, Holmes’ empire grew. He acquired new employees while nurturing their talents until they were at the top of their professions. One such employee that Holmes took special pride in was Victor Lynch, an up-and-coming forger. Lynch had been performing small jobs for another criminal, Reginald Matthews, when Holmes became aware of his talents. Holmes always preferred to handle incidents without violence when possible, and his hiring of Victor Lynch put this philosophy to the test.

Holmes had been watching Lynch for three weeks, when he finally had his chance to meet with the man without his employer around. After getting into a fight with a neighbor, Lynch was being treated and kept overnight at Charing Cross Hospital. Holmes and Watson visited the man, looking to anyone else as typical well-wishers, but when they entered his room, Holmes handed Lynch his business card.

Lynch read the card out loud. Sherlock Holmes. Consultant. What’s consultin’ got to do with me? he asked suspiciously.

Mr. Lynch, I have been aware of your talents in forgery for some weeks now, Holmes replied.

Oy! You can’t come in here accusin’ me-

Holmes held up his hands. Please, Mr. Lynch. I am not the police. Scotland Yard and the constabulary have no idea of your gift. And I would like to keep it that way. You are currently working for Reginald Matthews, correct?

Maybe.

Holmes looked to Watson. A man who does not readily answer questions about his employer is a good man to have on staff, wouldn’t you say?

Indeed. It is a sign of character, Watson agreed.

Turning back to Lynch, Holmes continued, "You have a chance to be the top forger in London and I am in need of someone with your capabilities. Judging by your reaction to my card, you’ve never heard of me. And that makes me happy, for I strive to keep my name away from